


The Vacation

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: The Adventures of Student!Jazz and Wizard!Prowl [6]
Category: Transformers - Aligned Continuity Family, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Wizards, Established Relationship, Horror, M/M, Magic, May/December Relationship, Medical Experimentation, Travel, Vacation, Warlock - Freeform, Wizards, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Prowl and Jazz taking a working holiday in Crystal City, seeking out the warlock Shockwave.





	The Vacation

The last few months of Jazz’s life had been terrifying, fascinating, and amazing all in turn. He’d met Prowl, a wizard, when he had been housesitting over the summer. After banishing a wight that’d been feeding on Jazz’s dreams, Prowl had stayed on a few days. There was a definite mutual attraction, but still, nothing had happened between them. Not then, anyway. They’d begun seeing each other after Prowl had shown up in Altihex, taken Jazz to dinner and sent some poltergeists on their way to Primus or whatever happened after mecha died. Later, after they’d been seeing each for a bit (a lot more normally), they’d cleansed a mirror, that had been cursed by a warlock named Shockwave, in the house Prowl had afterward chosen to buy. After _that,_ they’d freed Rewind, a mini-cassette, from a movie where he’d been trapped for about eighteen thousand meta-cycles. Turned out, Shockwave was responsible for trapping Rewind in the film as well as cursing the mirror. Prowl didn’t find it surprising, since there were so few wizards-turned-warlock, that Shockwave would be responsible for both, saying the probability was within expected parameters.

After telling Prowl Shockwave had been the one to trap him in the movie, Rewind had taken a few mega-cycles to further recover his memories and compile a file for Prowl to study. The mini-cassette had transmitted the data to Prowl mid-morning that mega-cycle. Prowl, respecting Jazz’s request for more in-depth explanations, waited till the student arrived at his house after classes.

“Thanks for waiting,” Jazz said, touched and pleased.

Prowl tended to get distracted and introspective when he worked out a magic-related puzzle, leaving Jazz partly in the dark. It had been a source of tension and Prowl had promised to be more careful about including Jazz in his train of thought as he worked things out. It was good to see him being mindful of that promise – Prowl hadn’t had to explain things for a long, long time – and Jazz rewarded him with a kiss.

“You’re quite welcome, darling,” Prowl said and kissed him again. “Come down to the workshop with me, and we can review and share the data.”

Technically, they could have shared the data anywhere in the house. Prowl preferred to keep most of the magic-type business confined to the one room, and that was his basement workshop.

They reached the workroom and Jazz gave the stuffed alloygator, hanging on a wall, an affectionate little pat on a sharply clawed foot on his way in. The critter had grown on him since he unpacked it from one of Prowl’s shipping crates on moving day. It didn’t have a name yet, but he was working on it.

Prowl had bought the house and the contents: the cursed mirror had made it unlivable, and the previous owner had just unloaded the whole thing. The rest of the house was elegantly decorated in the style of the period in which it had been built, sometime in the Golden Age. Prowl had moved a few things in, but not many and most of them were decorations. The house mainly looked like it had the first time Jazz had seen it, minus the dust coverings on everything.

The one exception was the workshop. _That_ was pure Prowl. Along with the alloygator it held a pair of worktables stained and scored from experiments and such, containers with metals and weirder stuff, small votive oil lamps Jazz had yet to see lit and other oddities. Shelving units were gradually migrating in to fill up the rest of the space. Two mismatched, comfortable chairs and a small battered table were wedged into a corner; the table bore an assortment of nearly empty energon cubes that Jazz made a mental note to take to the kitchen later. An erasable board covered with Wizard’s Alphabet glyphs in Prowl’s handwriting hung on one wall. Next to it was the lunar orbit map Prowl had used during Jazz’s housesitting gig for wight-related reasons Jazz had never asked about. At the time, Prowl hadn’t seen any need to explain what he was doing in any depth at all.

To be fair, at the time neither of them had any idea the impact they’d have on each other’s lives. Prowl had no reason to believe he would ever see, or want to see, Jazz again. Jazz had been seriously weirded out by the whole thing. Falling for each other had been the furthest thing on their minds at that point. Jazz had sure been regretting the whole housesitting gig, although he’d since come to regard that as one of the best decisions he’d ever made. Everything had changed the first time he’d played for Prowl.

Prowl absently pushed some of the empty energon cubes to a different edge of the table and invited Jazz to have a seat in one of the chairs.

“Babe, you’ve gotta start remembering to take those to the kitchen,” Jazz reminded him. “It’s just across from your workshop. You’re gonna get glitch-mice in here.”

“Hmm?” Prowl looked at what he’d pushed aside, seeming to recognize it for the first time, as he took his own seat. “Oh. Yes, of course. It’s only that I get distracted.”

Jazz, knowing full well that he was one of those distractions, decided against saying anything.

“Rewind warned me that some of this may still be fragmented or incomplete,” Prowl continued. “I believe I should be able to determine why Shockwave chose to trap Rewind. The information might still be of use. Shockwave’s plans often took a long time to come to completion.”

“Did you know him well?” Jazz asked.

Prowl shook his head. “Not that well. But even when I was young, there were not so many wizards. It was difficult not to know something about each other.”

Prowl sounded – lonely? regretful? So Jazz didn’t ask when he’d been young, just held out a hand. “Hey, you’ve got me now, right?”

Prowl smiled, optics going softly lit the way they only did for Jazz. “Yes, I have.” He extended his own hand, cover to the data port in his wrist unlocking and retracting. “Shall we, my dear?”

“Always happy to plug into you, sweetspark,” Jazz assured him. “Even if it is just for basic data sharing.”

“Later,” Prowl promised as the mutual connection was established, “we’ll share more.” He granted Jazz access to his systems so the musician could view Rewind’s file as well. “Focus now, love.”

Yeah, Jazz was gonna get a thrill out of hearing that last word from Prowl for a long, long time. Still, Jazz knew how to put other things aside and did so now, shutting his optics off so he only saw the file’s contents. His audials he left on since it was just him and Prowl and they’d both be silent. Ambient noise was easy enough to disregard.

_~~A flash of a typical morning. Waking from recharge within his host, breakfast with Blaster and his siblings. Checking his comm messages. Being assigned by Blaster to fulfill a request for an experiment to be recorded and archived at the PeriaptSchool of the Arcane, Altihex University._

Jazz had never heard of it, despite attending the university in question, and told Prowl so.

‘ _It closed perhaps sixteen thousand meta-cycles ago. Mecha with magical talent were no longer being sparked so there were no more students._ ’ Prowl told him. ‘ _But that later. Now, watch.’_

~~ _Arriving at the appointment to record the experiment at the Periapt School. Meeting the participants, Brainstorm and Shockwave, and another outside observer, Perceptor. Perceptor did not believe in magic, apparently, and only wanted to observe the two wizards to determine how to interpret what they did through the lens of science. Brainstorm disagreed with this idea and wanted to prove magic to the scientist. Shockwave seemed indifferent, claiming it was illogical to debate science versus magic when the two were tantamount. Shockwave said it was equally unreasonable to discuss the results of the experiment until it was complete and the results available to examine._

They watched Rewind’s recording of the experiment, annotated with what memories he’d been able to recall. Jazz had a better understanding of what he was seeing now than he would have even a deca-cycle ago, but it was still a little opaque. Prowl explained that it was a small experiment in precognition, attempting to manipulate pseudo-processors – non-sentient hardware that mimicked the processor of a sapient mech – to see through time.

‘ _Why_ ,’ questioned Jazz, ‘ _do I not like the idea of the warlock-to-be messing around with time?_ ’

‘ _Because you are sensible and possess hindsight.’_ Prowl frowned. ‘ _I see nothing in this experiment that Shockwave would want to hide, particularly if there were already another outside observer._ ’

 _~~The experiment ended and didn’t seem to have worked. Brainstorm insisted that there had to be a way, through science, magic, or a combination of both, to see or even move through time. Shockwave theorized that the experiment failed because they were using a simulated processor and might gain better results using a live mech. Brainstorm and Perceptor both shot that idea down, claiming that mecha trials at this juncture would be spectacularly unethical. Mecha trials could not begin until synthetic trials either proved successful or provided a way to_ safely _experiment on living mecha._

_~~After the experiment was complete and Rewind’s archival recording stopped the little mech wandered around the labs, recording for curiosity’s sake._

Jazz had a feeling he knew where this was going.

_~~One of the labs was closed, empty, but connected to another room. The connecting door didn’t quite fit the frame, and, in the darkness of the main lab, Rewind could make out a line of light running down one side. The mini-cassette’s natural curiosity seemed to take over, and he went to see what it was, peering in through the opening down the side._

Here, the recovered memories began to get pixelated, staticky, around the edges.

_~~Inside, Rewind could, just barely, make out a small, live, mech hooked up to equipment, maybe medical. Their helm was open, their processor exposed and linked up to the same type of apparatus Rewind had seen attached to the simulated processor earlier._

The next few nano-kliks were too distorted for anything to be made out, then the file indicated a period of missing time, about two kliks. When it came back, it was to show a brief burst of a ramp-well Rewind was running down. Another fritzed section and now Rewind was in an area Jazz recognized as the alley/hallway they’d seen in the movie Prowl had pulled Rewind out of. This time it was from Rewind’s perspective, not Shockwave’s, of course. Just as before, Rewind ran toward the t-junction, paused to check down the alley intersecting with the one he was in.

~~ _Shockwave._ Massive _compared to Rewind, approaching fast. A glow coming from one of Shockwave’s hands._

_~~Pixelation._

_~~Static._

_~~Rewind, present day, advising that he’d been able to determine Shockwave was now in Crystal City. He hadn’t been able to find any information on Shockwave’s current magical activities. Shockwave currently presented himself as a scientist and had even helped develop a new structural material for Crystal City, giving the buildings their unique look. He provided an address and ended with wishing them luck._

The file ended. Jazz withdrew from Prowl’s systems, reeling his jacks back in.

 “I think I must travel to Crystal City,” Prowl said slowly, his powerful systems allowing him to recover from the deep data-dive faster than Jazz’s did. “Whatever Shockwave did in the past cannot be undone – though I could perhaps mitigate some of the effects as I find them, as I did with the mirror.  I want to look into his current activities. It would be best to do that in his place of residence.”

“And more dangerous,” Jazz pointed out. “You’re going alone?”

“Not if you will come with me. I can wait until your next break between terms to travel if you would.” When Jazz hesitated, Prowl reached out and tipped his chin up, gently, to look him in the visor. “What troubles you? Is it the cost?”

“Well, yeah,” Jazz admitted. “Crystal City ain’t cheap.”

“I’m happy to cover the expense.”

“Okay, but, well…” Jazz wasn’t sure how to put it. Fortunately, Prowl seemed to understand. Social cues might still escape him on occasion – or, more likely, be disregarded – but he read Jazz pretty well.

“The inequity of it bothers you,” Prowl guessed.

“Yeah,” Jazz sighed. “I know it doesn’t bother you, but – “ He shrugged. Prowl was older, wealthier, able to afford a house of his own. Jazz was a student who still relied on financial help from his mentor and couldn’t afford anything more than student dorms. Jazz had always been told the age of your lover shouldn’t matter, provided you were all adults, but he was pretty sure whoever said that had been thinking of a much smaller gap. Jazz had been online for nine meta-cycles: Prowl had never told Jazz how old he was, but Jazz had picked up enough clues to suggest his lover had been sparked either late in the Age of Origins or early in the Age of Wrath.

“It bothers you, that’s what’s important. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Prowl considered. “We have time to research travel and lodging. What if I – if _we_ create a travel budget,” just the way Prowl said the words told Jazz the idea was foreign to him, “and come up with one acceptable to you?”

Jazz forgave him the slip because he knew Prowl wasn’t used to having to account for anyone else and it was clear the wizard was trying.

“Yeah,” Jazz said. “Sounds good, I like that. Lemme talk to Half-step,” Jazz’s mentor and fellow musician, “see if he knows someone who’s got a place we can borrow, or anywhere cheap to stay.” He cupped Prowl’s cheek and leaned in to kiss him. “Means a lot that you’re trying. Thanks, babe.”

***

Half-step knew a mech who’d met Jazz before, when he was younger, and was willing to let Jazz and Prowl stay in his place while he was away. From the images of the apartment Jazz saw, it was small for two mecha but not so small Jazz was going to complain, especially since it was free. Prowl had no opinion on it and had probably stayed in worse over his long and nomadic life as a monster-hunter. Half-step had also found Jazz work playing backup for a local band for two nights. Jazz looked them up on the DataNet and, frankly, did not expect great things to come of them. A paying gig was a paying gig, though, and Jazz really did want to make the trip costs as equal as possible.

Despite the real reason for the trip, Jazz found himself looking forward to it. Half-step was a good, attentive, mentor but he wasn’t exactly rich, and he’d never been able to take Jazz on more than a day-trip here and there. Jazz suspected that taking on a newbuild was more costly than Half-step had planned for, though Jazz had never felt any lack during his time living with his mentor.

For someone who’d never put a travel budget together before, Jazz thought Prowl did an excellent job. It was still not quite fifty/fifty, more like sixty-five/thirty-five, but Prowl insisted Jazz arranging their accommodations should count toward costs, just because of how much it saved them. Five nights in Crystal City did _not_ come cheap if you had to rent a hotel room. The mech whose apartment they were borrowing was giving them limited use of his energon dispenser as well, saving them on fuel. Jazz’s share of the final projected costs was within a student’s budget, considering where they were going. There wouldn’t be any change left and Jazz would have to go light on extras for a bit, but it wouldn’t be hard. It’s not like he would go hungry.

Based on Prowl’s reaction on the transport – a relatively slow-moving but inexpensive inter-city train – Jazz didn’t think his lover had ever used public transit like this before. The wizard, well, _prowled_ the whole passenger-accessible length of the train, checking out every coach and sleeper car, the dining car, and the front and back café areas. Jazz, following along, briefly got a sinking feeling when he saw Prowl rubbing his fingers together the way he checked for magic, but it turned out he’d only gotten something sticky on his fingers.

While Jazz appreciated not having to drive all the way to Crystal City, he was still glad to get off the train and onto his wheels. Proving he knew Jazz incredibly well – hardly surprising given how often he was in Jazz’s systems – Prowl made their very first stop a local racetrack.

‘ _You, my mech, are amazing_ ,’ Jazz said approvingly.

Prowl’s response was a series of happy/content/pleased glyphs tagged with markers indicating he felt that way because Jazz did. Primus, Jazz loved his wizard.

Prowl wasn’t a bad racer himself. He nearly tied with Jazz a couple of times.

After racing the first night was occupied with dinner – to celebrate their arrival, their first vacation together, they ate out – and settling in. There was a window opposite the bed, and they polarized it so they could see out and no one could see in and curled up together to look out over the city. During the day, Crystal City glittered in the sunlight: at night, it was filled with lights. Streetlights, building lights, sculptures of light, building marquees, head-and-tailights of the mecha still driving through the streets. Jazz loved it.

“’S beautiful,” Jazz said softly. Prowl was sitting up against the headboard and Jazz was leaning contentedly against him, head on his chest, arm over his waist. “No matter what else happens while we’re here, I’m glad we had this.”

Prowl pressed a tender kiss to Jazz’s helm. “As am I, beloved.”

***

Even though they had Shockwave’s address, getting into it was another matter. It was a secure research facility on the outskirts of the city that doubled as his residence. (Apparently, even ancient warlock-scientists had to be chary with the rent in Crystal City.) Over breakfast, Prowl said that he wanted to case it first, see if he could get some idea of what kind of magic – if any – Shockwave might be working there. There was always the possibility the warlock had left magic behind, especially since magic was on the wane, and gone legit.

Prowl said the probability was low but not zero. He’d also wondered if Shockwave’s experiments could be responsible for the wane in magic because anything to do with altering time, space, or opening a rift to another plane required large amounts of it. They did know that Shockwave was interested in looking through time, possibly even travelling through it, as Brainstorm had mentioned. Prowl had allowed, too, that the wane in magic might be connected to the slowly diminishing number of newsparks being produced by Vector Sigma or the (rumoured) lessening of available energon. Prowl’s specialty was hunting preternatural threats, not studying the whys and wherefores of how magic worked. Prowl termed that study ‘thaumaphysics’ and Jazz was about sixty percent sure he’d made the word up on the spot.

“Got anyone you can ask about that?” Jazz asked. While Jazz hadn’t met any – according to Prowl, wizards got along better when _not_ sharing territory – Prowl did have colleagues he communicated with regularly.

“A few. One here, Magister Sigil, and another in Iacon who is…rather lax in his response times,” Prowl replied. “But then, he is also the oldest of us and has many responsibilities beyond that of the average mech or wizard.” Perhaps realizing he was lapsing into the realm of not explaining things, he added, “I’ll share more of that with you later, dearest. After Shockwave.”

“Does Shockwave not know who the guy is?” Jazz wondered. Didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t, though.

“He does,” Prowl told him, “but names can have power, and the mech I’m thinking of is very powerful indeed. It may be wise not to call attention to it while we’re attempting to go unnoticed.”

Well, that was concerning. “What about you?”

“I doubt the warlock is aware I still function, if he even remembers me.” Prowl shrugged. “We only met once, and it was a very long time ago.

“Before we begin our research, however, my love, shall we tour the city?” Prowl smiled warmly at Jazz across the little table. “I still want a holiday with you, even if it is a working one. I remember Crystal City having a thriving entertainment district you’ll adore.”

Prowl was dead-on about that one. Jazz never wanted to leave! There were theatres, music and concert halls, shops for every kind of performing art, and buskers on every single street corner. He almost lost track of time, exploring everything he possibly could, adding to the mental list of instruments and music he wanted to buy once he had, y’know, an _income_. (The romance of being a starving arts student wore off really, _really_ , slagging fast.) Jazz only tore himself away to get to rehearsal with the band whose electro-bass player he was subbing for while he and Prowl were there.

Prowl went off to do wizard-things, probably recon for the whole Shockwave deal. Whatever he did, he was in the seat he’d been comped when the stage lights came up and the show started.

The wizard always loved to hear Jazz play, always watched intently. Jazz knew he should scan the audience for reactions, to make contact, read the crowd. It was hard to look away from Prowl, though, with the other mech focussed that tightly on him.

“Primus, someone’s got his optics on you, doesn’t he?” the lead singer asked, backstage during the intermission. “Mech hasn’t looked away from you once. You okay with him? He’s not a stalker or anything?”

Jazz chuckled. “Nah, that’s m’sweetspark. Got a thing for hearing me play. He’s just a bit on the intense side, is all.”

After the show, they hung around with the band at a local after-hours hangout for a bit. Well, Jazz hung out; Prowl hung in the background trying not to unnerve people, with varying levels of success. By the time they got back to the apartment, even the lights of Crystal City were beginning to dim as the last of the city’s waking inhabitants found a place to sleep, whether their own or someone else’s. After kissing Prowl goodnight, Jazz practically fell into their borrowed bed. Jazz was ‘charging deeply before the outer layers of his armour had even shed the night’s chill.

The next day they woke late, took their energon down to the little terrace at the back of the apartment building and breakfasted in the crystal garden there.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Prowl observed, smiling. He was sitting on a bench next to Jazz, turned sideways so he could face his lover. “As am I. I was able to avail myself of one of the libraries here, one of the few remaining public libraries with an arcane section. Granted, it is in the fiction wing, but one can only ask so much these days.”

“Find anything out?” Jazz asked, polarizing his visor to block out some of the sunlight. (He might’ve overdone it a little on letting people buy him drinks last night, plus his systems were still off because of travel.)

Prowl nodded. “Yes. The warlock is not a regular patron of the library – I expect he has copies of everything they have – but one of the other visitors there knew of him. Her opinion was unfavourable, but I was able to confirm that his claims of performing pure science are untrue. The visitor described seeing a glow coming from the laboratory complex’s upper windows that can only be magical in nature.”

“You can trust this mech?” Jazz didn’t think Prowl was the type to be overly trusting of strangers, but it never hurt to ask.

“Oh yes.” Prowl sipped his energon, focused into the distance briefly, probably on some interesting refraction from one of the crystal flowers or something. “She is sworn to the Order of Veritax. They can only ever tell the truth.”

“Another wizard?” Jazz would be surprised if this Order of Veritax mech were, after what Prowl had said about wizards and territory. Shockwave sounded like he’d be the insular type, though, so maybe he didn’t pay a lot of attention to what went on outside his walls.

“No, although they have been known to serve wizards as assistants, or liaisons with the outside world.” Prowl looked at Jazz. “Similar to what you do – though I certainly don’t think of you as a servant, my dear.”

“I don’t think you’re that bad at liaising with the outside world, love,” Jazz told him. “Not as much as you think you are. Not that I mind helping you out, though.”

Prowl looked pleased. “Thank you, Jazz.

“Tomorrow, once your performance commitments have been fulfilled,” Prowl continued, “I want you to drive past the laboratory complex to determine what you can sense.”

“And share the memory with you later?” Jazz guessed, reaching over to run teasing fingers up Prowl’s arm, earning him one of Prowl’s affectionate little smiles as a ‘yes.’

Prowl had incredibly powerful processors, far more so than Jazz’s. The wizard could process a fantastic amount of data, more than anyone Jazz had ever known or heard of. Being connected to them was, when the connection ran deep enough, intense in all the very best ways. Jazz’s systems weren’t exceptional in the way Prowl’s were, but Jazz interpreted sensory input in a slightly but significantly different way. Like any mech, Jazz took in and recorded more sensory input than he actively processed. He usually didn’t do anything with the extra data, though he could if he wanted to devote the time and processing power. The information was just saved. But, when _Prowl_ ran packets of sensory information from _Jazz_ , processing, interpreting, and analyzing the extra data was much, much easier. When Prowl shared it back, the world burst into whole new levels of light, sound, texture and more.

Prowl had cautioned that interfacing with him could be overwhelming. It was, it totally was, and it was wonderful, and Jazz loved every pico-klik of it.

Once he’d seen his own sensory information run back at maximum resolution, running effortlessly under Prowl’s power Jazz finally understood why Prowl drew links between magic and music. The connection between the two wasn’t ability, it was _perception_. They overlapped in specific harmonies, and Jazz was sensitive to them in ways he probably wouldn’t have been had he not been sparked a musician.

Jazz really needed to thank Half-step for phrasing his request to Vector Sigma for the spark that became Jazz the way he had. First, though, Jazz would have figure out how to explain the whole ‘my lover is a wizard’ thing in a way that wouldn’t make Half-step ask if he were high.

Then again, Half-step knew some off-spec things for a piano player. Lockpicking, for instance. It might not be that much of a surprise. You didn’t need to be a musician to pick up that there was something (intriguing, magnetic, amazing) different about Prowl either.

***

They’d done stuff for Jazz their first full day there, so Jazz insisted on making the second day about Prowl. Prowl liked to visit bookstores, museums, galleries, and antique shops – not Jazz’s usual fare, but hey it made Prowler happy.

Prowl didn’t so much seem to have an interest in shopping in the antique shops as reminiscing in them. The employees – sorry, _advisors_ , rich mecha were slagging weird – didn’t seem to mind. They were probably used to their customers – sorry, _habitués_ , see previous observation – being a little to a lot eccentric. Jazz was sure the ‘advisors’ thought he was Prowl’s kept mech, and Jazz entertained himself by playing that up a bit. He didn’t want to be kept in real life but playing at it was fun.

‘ _Having fun?_ ’ Prowl asked, amused, notably _not_ telling Jazz to stop.

‘ _Actually yeah.’_

After that, Prowl addressed him out loud with terms like ‘pet’ until Jazz couldn’t keep a straight face. Eventually, he got the snickers walking into the high-end shops even after Prowl stopped to let him calm down, and they had to abandon the pricier shopping districts. From there they went to the outer circles of the city, which were less high-end and more working class. No matter how rich you were, someone had to build and maintain things for you, after all.

Prowl brought them to an open-air market, a lot less rigidly structured than the places they’d been in the city center. Even though it was the middle of the workday the market was well attended – probably, Jazz thought, by the mecha who worked later or earlier shifts to keep the city bright and entertaining. Likely the Towerlings didn’t ever set foot here unless they were, as they would put it, ‘slumming.’

Here, Prowl was doing less browsing and more looking for something. They went through a twisty, odd, little back section of the market, into a building that looked like it’d been standing there since Prowl was sparked. Jazz didn’t think he’d have been able to find it without Prowl.

‘ _Magic shop?_ ’ Jazz asked as he followed Prowl in.

‘ _Magic supplies and curios, yes._ ’

Jazz wondered if they sold stuffed alloygators here since they seemed to be an essential part of a wizard’s workshop. Prowl had to have gotten his someplace, and he wasn’t into hunting. Jazz supposed he could also have inherited it from his master. Prowl had mistaken Jazz for an apprentice when they’d first met so he must have been one himself once.

Based on the outside of the building Jazz had expected the inside of the shop to be slightly mismatched and battered, like a larger version of Prowl’s workshop, dimly lit, and staffed by a single ancient mech. It really looked like a clinic, with bright white walls and stainless-steel shelving. Everything was neatly labelled and organized on shelves, the lights were bright, and the mech standing behind the counter had a contemporary frame. The attendant was broadcasting her ID: Quickshadow, she, third-level apprentice. She and Prowl appeared to know each other.

“Wizard Prowl, welcome,” she said, with a respectful dip of her head. “It’s good to see you patronize our establishment again.”

“Hello again, Apprentice Quickshadow,” Prowl said, crossing the room to the counter. “Is Magister Sigil available?”

“The Magister is travelling at present,” Quickshadow told him. “I’m unsure of when he’ll return. Such trips can take many unexpected turns, as you know.”

Prowl sent Jazz a flicker of ‘amused/affectionate’ glyphs, probably thinking of the unexpected turn his wight-hunt had taken. “Yes. Perhaps you can help me. You are familiar with any magical experiments being done in or near the city, I imagine?”

Quickshadow looked at Jazz critically. “Who’s this?”

“Jazz is with me.” ‘With’ carried undertones indicating their relationship was more than friendly. “He’s safe and informed.”

“Very well,” Quickshadow conceded. “Yes, I know of the experiments to which you refer. They’re minor things, nothing to be concerned with.”

Even to Jazz’s less experienced audial, she sounded rushed when she spoke, as if she wanted to avoid the subject. Prowl clearly wasn’t fooled.

“You’re certain?” Prowl asked, regarding her levelly. “Perhaps we’re thinking of different experiments. I’m inquiring about any magical experiments being performed in Shockwave’s labs.”

“The labs are well known to be a scientific facility,” she said. “Not a magical one.”

“Better,” Prowl said mildly, “that was almost an answer. I know what they’re meant to be, Apprentice, you will tell me what they _are_.”

“I – I’m not sure. I – “

Jazz ha a sudden flash of insight. “Hey, Quickshadow? This Magister Sigil mech – what did Shockwave say he’d do to him if you talked?”

Quickshadow’s optics widened just a fraction before she caught herself. “I can’t say. I’m sorry.”

‘ _Very good, love_ ,’ Prowl’s glyphs were marked with approval and affection. ‘ _Perceptive_.’

‘ _’S why you love me_.’ Affectionate teasing.

‘ _One of many reasons_.’ Fondness.

Out loud, Prowl spoke to Quickshadow again. “Apprentice, give me your hand.” When she hesitated, he added a little more gently, “I’m only going to verify the presence of the geas and examine its structure, I won’t attempt to dispel it.”

Quickshadow hesitantly put her hand on Prowl’s. He let it rest there, not doing anything Jazz could see beyond being focussed.

‘ _A geas is a way of forcing someone to do something – or, as I believe to be the case here, not reveal something_ ,’ Prowl explained to Jazz, getting ever better at remembering he often had to tell Jazz what was going on. ‘ _But I should be able to see something of what isn’t to be said._ ’

‘ _Stuff like not telling us Shockwave’s got this Magister Sigil mech. Got it. Not going to try and undo it?_ ’

‘ _No. Having one of his spells undone may alert Shockwave. I don’t want to give my presence away until its necessary. The geas won’t cause her any harm, provided she doesn’t try to move against it,_ ’ Prowl assured him. ‘ _This is also not my style of magic. It’s better to be removed by the caster or by Magister Sigil if we’re able to return him._ ’

_‘Doesn’t seem like Shockers’d remove it just ‘cause we ask nice. What happens if we can’t return Magister Sigil?’_

_‘If we return and Magister Sigil does not, I’ll endeavour to remove it myself. If we do not return then the geas will remain active until the warlock deactivates or she can find another wizard to remove it.’_ Prowl finished whatever it was he was doing with Quickshadow’s hand and let her go. ‘ _I should reassure her, correct?_ ’

‘ _Yup, you got it._ ’ Jazz let Prowl know he was proud of the wizard for remembering.

“I have enough now, Quickshadow,” Prowl said to her. “I’ll do what I can for Magister Sigil.”

“Thank you, Wizard Prowl.” Quickshadow clasped her hands behind her back. “I’m sure the Magister will be grateful when he returns from his journey. In the meantime, is there anything in the shop you would like to see?”

“Yes,” Prowl replied, the talk about Magister Sigil apparently over for now. “I require more ammunition. One box will do.”

“Of course,” Quickshadow dipped her head in acknowledgement and moved to open one of the cabinets behind the counter. “Are your requirements still the same as they were in your previous purchase?”

“The calibre remains the same, but I need something that will disrupt and ground.”

“You’ll etch them yourself?” Quickshadow asked, looking back over her shoulder.

Prowl nodded. “Of course.”

Quicksilver selected a box from one of the cabinet shelves, locked the cabinet back up and came back to the counter. “These should be sufficient. Gold-copper alloy jacketed in sterling silver. Fifty shanix, please.”

Seemed pricey to Jazz, but Prowl didn’t say anything, so neither did he. It wasn’t like Jazz knew anything about firearms or ammunition anyway. He could recognize different kinds of firearms, and that was about it. Prowl’s rifle probably didn’t follow the standard rules anyway.

They took a slower route back to the apartment so Jazz could give himself a polish before his gig that evening, winding through exquisite parks that were perfectly planned and maintained. Jazz wished he could race on the driving paths – _without_ getting himself Enforcer attention and a fine bigger than what he earned in two stellar cycles if the signs posted about were right.

While Jazz got ready Prowl sat down at the table with his new ammunition and what Jazz guessed was an etching kit and began to painstakingly carve little glyphs on the cartridges. (Jazz had called them bullets and been corrected: the cartridge contained the bullet, they weren’t the same thing.)

“Gonna head out now, love,” Jazz announced, leaning down for a quick kiss. “Coming to the show tonight? Cause you don’t need to if you need the time for,” he nodded at the cartridges, “this. You know I’ll understand.”

Prowl shook his head. “No need, I’ll still have some time tomorrow. I enjoy watching you perform.”

“’Kay, babe. See you at the show.”

The show that night went pretty much the same as the last one, just a little bit easier for Jazz to follow the other musicians now that he was familiar with their styles. They didn’t stay out as late that night. They couldn’t really afford to, not and remain within the agreed-on holiday budget. It gave them time for a slow, gentle, ‘face before they slept, so Jazz wasn’t about to complain.

“Good day,” Jazz mumbled as his optics shut off. “Best vacation ever.”

The sound of agreement Prowl made as he snuggled close was the last thing Jazz remembered before morning.

***

The first day of the actual job, which had grown to include an attempt to rescue Magister Sigil, dawned bright and clear. It was a perfect day to go driving, which worked out well for Jazz. Prowl wanted him to view Shockwave’s lab from as many angles as possible, and since Jazz didn’t want to be too obvious, that meant multiple passes, on different roads, separated by time. So he was going to spend the entire day on his wheels, pretty much.

It only took one pass for Jazz to determine that he Did Not Like the place. He couldn’t say exactly why, so he turned up the gain on all his sensors as much as he could so Prowl would have as much info as possible to work with. The lab looked modern and shiny, like the rest of the city. It didn’t look like anything anyone should take exception to, but it _was_.

At least Crystal City had immaculately kept roads, just as good as the racetrack Jazz and Prowl had visited when they arrived. Jazz maybe indulged in a couple extra spins around the place, freaky or not, just to stay on them. But he had a job to do, and right now that job was to get this info to Prowl.

When Jazz got back to the apartment Prowl was kneeling in a patch of sun, meditating. Jazz was irresistibly reminded of a cybercat one of Half-step’s friends owned. Prowl even gave him the same look when he came in, as if considering whether or not he should get up or wait for Jazz to go to him.

Jazz went over and nudged Prowl till there was space in the sun-patch for him, too.

“How was it?” Prowl asked.

“Weird,” Jazz replied. “Looks totally normal but I don’t like it. Got lots of sensory data for you, though, all packaged up and ready, just – no offence, love, but I’m not sure I wanna run this one with you.”

“That’s fine.” Prowl held out his arm, so Jazz could jack in and transfer the packet. “If you don’t like the lab using your normal amount of sensory input seeing the full spectra will be worse.”

“Okay, thanks,” Jazz said, relieved, and gave Prowl the data. “I’m gonna go practice while you look that over, alright?”

“Of course, dearest.”

Jazz practiced for a solid cycle, way more time than Prowl’d need to analyze Jazz’s data. Frowning, Jazz rounded the screen that separated the sleeping area from the rest of the apartment to check on his lover. Prowl was back at the table, etching more symbols onto his rifle cartridges. He looked up when Jazz approached.

“You were right not to view the data,” the wizard said, simply. He reached out a hand and Jazz took it, sensing Prowl needed the comfort of touch just then. “It would have disturbed you.”

“You look like it disturbed you,” Jazz commented. He grabbed one of the other chairs and sat down next to Prowl, thigh to thigh, joined hands resting on his knee. “Can you tell me about it?”

Prowl hesitated, then leaned into Jazz, resting his head on the younger mech’s shoulder. “Not now. Not yet.”

“Okay, babe,” Jazz said, freeing his hand so he could put that arm around Prowl’s shoulders. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here.”

***

Whatever Prowl had seen, it moved up their projected timetable. On the upside, that meant they might have more time for actual vacation once they were down. On the downside…yeah. Jazz didn’t think he really wanted to imagine what the downsides to getting caught by a warlock were. Might well not be something as simple as being deactivated.

Prowl had them go to the lab that night, instead of the next. He said they weren’t quite as prepared as he wanted to be but _something_ was building, and he didn’t want to wait. He still wouldn’t tell Jazz what he’d seen and that worried Jazz. Prowl had to have seen some slag in his time, so for him to react like this had to be pretty bad.

“You shouldn’t come with me,” Prowl said quietly. His head was down so he couldn’t meet Jazz’s visor and his shoulders were tense, doors flattened forward and held close to his body. He’d taken his rifle apart, cleaned it, and reassembled it while they waited for nightfall. Now he was loading it with the cartridges he’d finished etching earlier.

“Because you don’t want me to or because you don’t need me?” Jazz, leaning against the table, kept going before Prowl could answer. “’Cause I can see you’re scared and if there’s scrap there that scares _you_ it ain’t something I want you to face alone.”

Now Prowl looked up, face tense. “Jazz. This isn’t like the wight or the poltergeist. It’s far more dangerous. I cannot promise you that, if it comes to a fight, I’ll be able to defeat Shockwave. If I can’t, you – I-I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“And I don’t want to have to wonder what happened if you don’t come back,” Jazz pointed out, gently. “Besides, if you don’t, I’m just gonna have to go in after you.”

“You can’t fight,” Prowl countered. “So far as I know you don’t know how to use a weapon. You’re sensitive to magic but can neither truly perceive nor use it. You’d be – “

“A liability?”

“In _danger_. Jazz…”

“Sigil,” Jazz interrupted firmly.

Prowl’s optics flickered briefly in surprise. “What about Sigil?”

“Why’d Shockwave take him?”

“To contain a possible threat,” Prowl replied. “Sigil is very powerful, and the warlock wouldn’t risk having a wizard who could oppose him so near. Closing the shop entirely would have drawn too much interest, hence leaving Quickshadow free but under a geas.”

Jazz nodded. “Because wizards like you might come calling and wonder what’d happen. Okay. Now. Whatever the warlock’s up to out there’s got you freaked out bad.” He held up a hand. “I’m not gonna ask you what it was, I know you don’t want to talk about it yet. Whatever it is, d’you think Shocker’s gonna stop at Crystal City? D’you think he’s going to leave anyone he thinks might know something _alone_?”

“You’re attempting to convince me you will be in danger if the result is anything but a successful outcome,” Prowl said bluntly. He didn’t look happy about it, but gave and admitted, “you are most probably correct.”

“Thought so,” Jazz said, satisfied. “Besides that, could you use Sigil’s help? If he’s in a state to give it, I mean?”

“I could,” Prowl said slowly. “Yes…and most magical bindings, if they’re being used, can be broken by a non-wizard using the correct tools and knowledge. It’s usually as simple as damaging the glyphs of the spell. You suggest that you can retrieve Sigil while I, if necessary, provide a diversion for the warlock.”

Jazz nodded. “Yeah. I’m not letting you go in there alone, might as well be useful.”

“I see.” Prowl sighed and reached for his etcher, still sitting on the table, moving the rifle to one side. “I suppose I cannot stop you following me, but I can offer you some protection. Lie down on the floor and offline your pain receptors in the following areas.”

Jazz hadn’t ever planned, or thought about, getting tattoos or etchings on his armour. They’d never been his thing. But, if this worked out and he changed his mind about them, he could always get them filled in. It wasn’t anything so extreme he couldn’t let Prowl do it if it meant he could go with the wizard.

“Besides,” Jazz said, watching Prowl carefully etch delicate-looking glyphs into the armour on his right arm. “I can get you past the locks, hack the security feeds. Been a while but a friend of Half-step’s showed me how.”

“You showed an aptitude for this?”

“Yup.” For the sake of honesty, Jazz added, “probably better when I’m sober, though.”

“Very well. The less we have to use magic the longer we may avoid Shockwave’s notice. _Do not_ ,” Prowl ordered, “risk yourself in those systems. I know what the warlock’s power is in terms of magic. His science and technology are lesser-known areas for me.”

“Hey, I don’t want me to get deactivated any more than you do. We’ll get us out of there. Maybe not in the greatest of shape,” Jazz allowed, “but we’ll get out. I’ve got a feeling.”

“Well,” Prowl sat back on his heels and brushed curls of metal from Jazz’s arm into a tiny container from his subspace. “If you’re to develop psychic abilities, I suppose now is the time.”

“Sarcasm’s a weird look on you, babe.”

“What sarcasm?”

***

Shockwave’s lab was even creepier at night, to Jazz’s total lack of surprise. Prowl brought them in close to some perimeter only the wizard could see, pacing along it until he found what he was looking for. Subspacing a bottle of something, he poured a stream of powder into his palm and tossed it into the air in front of them, revealing a twisting pattern of lines and shapes.

‘ _What was that stuff you used?_ ’

‘ _Powdered ruby. Carefully now, follow me and move as I do_. _The warlock left himself an exit, we’re using it for entry, but it requires precision._ ’

Jazz obeyed, putting his feet exactly where Prowl had, twisting and ducking as the wizard did, irresistibly reminded of dance classes. Except, messing up here meant something a lot worse than not landing a spot in the chorus. They made it through, and across a bare-seeming patch of ground, to a section of wall that looked like every other section of wall. Jazz kept putting his feet where Prowl had, sure they were through the maze, or whatever it was, but wanting to be cautious. Prowl ran his fingers down a seam between wall panels, beautiful crystal like everything else, and opened a tiny panel. He stepped aside.

‘ _Your turn._ _Be careful. If it’s too risky for you, we will find another way._ ’

Jazz nodded and connected to the door’s systems. It was protected, but he got through, opening the door and forcing the cameras in the escape tunnel to loop the last klik of footage. Shockwave was probably counting on his magic fence-maze and the door being invisibly set in the wall for a lot of the security here. Probably didn’t want an emergency exit to be too complicated either.

‘ _You did well,_ ’ Prowl complimented him when the door opened, and they slipped through. Jazz locked it behind them.

‘ _Thanks. Just a matter of finding the rhythm._ _The next ones won’t be so easy, though._ ’

The escape hallway went up a couple of stories and was dotted with doors and other hallways branching off of it. Jazz guessed that was so Shockwave could get out from almost anywhere in the lab. If the mech hadn’t been a warlock with a possible bent for occult science it would have been paranoid.

‘ _The worst effects were to the south,_ ’ Prowl told Jazz. ‘ _I expect that is where Sigil is being held – and where the experiments and any major workings are performed. If we find a terminal can you locate a floor plan to give us more information?’_

 _‘Can try. The terminal will be more secure than door locks, probably. Riskier._ ’

‘ _Necessary._ ’

They moved deeper into the facility, checking side hallways for a room with a terminal. Most of what they saw was weird labs, filled with experiments Jazz didn’t understand just by looking at them. They weren’t on living mecha though, for which he was grateful, especially after those glimpses from Rewind’s file. One hallway led to a room whose interior Jazz didn’t see because Prowl stepped back abruptly from the open doorway and pushed him away before he got a look.

Yeah, even if there _were_ a terminal in there, Jazz didn’t think he’d want to use it.

Finally, they found what they were looking for. Jazz ignored the jars filled with he-didn’t-want-to-know in liquid and connected to the terminal. _Carefully_. He manipulated the firewalls, dodged other forms of security, and finally pulled up the floor plan he wanted. Sadly, it didn’t have a section conveniently marked ‘Evil Lair’ or ‘Magister Storage.’ There _were_ five rooms marked as clean rooms that were connected to the regular vent systems with no sign of filters. Jazz knew clean rooms were supposed to be on their own system or have filtering systems or use negative pressure or something. Unless something had changed, and the floor plan hadn’t been appropriately updated, that was not right making it an excellent place to start.

‘ _Think I found it. South, like you said. Found us a path._ ’ He pinged it to Prowl in case they got separated. ‘ _We’re in past the security perimeter – some of the individual rooms might have some, and there are cameras, but no guards. Probably doesn’t want to risk anyone talking or having to explain disappearances._ And _I found the power usage records too. Looks like statistically, the lowest power use takes place starting around midnight. That might be when the warlock’s ‘charging. You want to hold up somewhere and wait or stick to the plan?’_

Prowl was silent, deliberating. ‘ _We could wait, but there is no guarantee that downtime will occur tonight at the average time, nor that that is when Shockwave is sleeping. Also, the longer I stay, the more likely he is to sense my presence, whether I am actively using magic or not.’_

Jazz nodded. ‘ _Forward it is, then. I’ll loop a klik of footage through it like I did in the escape tunnel but we should be quick._ ’

‘ _You’ve done well.’_

They weren’t using names, or anything but the most basic glyphs without markers in their transmissions, for security reasons. Prowl still brushed their hands together to let Jazz know he was pleased.

Jazz had constructed the path to keep them inside the emergency system, already hacked and probably as secure as they were going to get, as long as possible. He’d set camera footage to loop starting at the time he’d calculated they’d reach the section letting them into the facility proper. Jazz was reasonably confident his hacks wouldn’t be noticed but no sense allowing the changes run before they had to.

‘ _How long do we have to search?’_ Prowl wanted to know.

‘ _The loop’ll last for a cycle before I have to connect and extend it. Every time I enter the system increases the risk of being caught though. I want to keep it to a minimum.’_ That was provided Jazz had been able to locate and affect all the security measures.

He’d been dead on about one thing, though: the clean rooms weren’t clean rooms. They were cells. They locked from the outside only. Cabinets and a sink ran down one wall, and there were power outlets clearly designed for machinery that drew more power than the average appliance. The walls, floor, and ceiling were white. They were utterly, utterly, clean and yet Jazz was sure there was something in the air. Without thinking about it, he rubbed his fingers together the way Prowl did for a magical residue check.

‘ _There were wizards here_.’ Prowl caught Jazz’s arm and drew him away. ‘ _Wizards who died here._ ’

‘ _This is why you didn’t want to show me –_ ‘

‘ _Yes. One of the reasons._ ’

Jazz looked down at his fingers, forced them to straighten out. ‘ _Gotta stop it. Tonight._ ’

Prowl made no reply – one wasn’t really needed – and they kept going, looking for the next most likely candidate for Magister Sigil’s (and hopefully _only_ Magister Sigil’s) location. The rooms they checked got more and more disturbing, covered in arcane symbols or filled with equipment Jazz didn’t recognize but knew wasn’t right. A lot of it looked like it had started as _standard_ medical tech before it had been changed. Before it had been…made wrong.

‘ _What_ is _this stuff?’_ he asked Prowl, who was examining some of the equipment as closely as he could without touching it. ‘ _What happened to it?_ ’

‘ _It is a blend of science and magic,_ ’ Prowl told him. ‘ _In itself, not abnormal. It would be impossible for Cybertronian magic-users to truly separate the two. But these…’_ Prowl stood, drawing away from the equipment. ‘ _These have been twisted from their true purpose. Machines meant for healing turned to torture._ ’

Yeah, not making Jazz feel any better about the amount of time they were spending here. ‘ _Been used recently?_ ’

‘ _I don’t believe so. I am not particularly keen on performing a more in-depth examination with the location of their maker currently unknown._ ’

‘ _Better to melt them down._ ’ Jazz had a bad, bad feeling that some of these machines were responsible for the dead wizards Prowl had mentioned earlier.

‘ _Quite.’_

They were almost to the point Jazz was going to have to find another terminal and reset the cameras when they saw the door. It was very plain, utterly ordinary, and nowhere on the floor plans Jazz had found.

‘ _Well, that’s so normal it’s sinister,_ ’ Jazz said, after a beat of staring at it. ‘ _That the thing we’re looking for?_ ’

‘ _Almost certainly_.’ Prowl stepped up, ran a hand up along the corner where door met frame. ‘ _There is a magical seal on this in addition to a conventional electronic lock. The probability the warlock will be alerted when the seal is broken is very high._ ’

‘ _Weren’t going to get out of this_ without _alerting him_ ,’ Jazz pointed out. ‘ _Want me to hack the lock first?_ ’

‘ _Please._ ’

The unassuming door led into an unassuming but short corridor that terminated in an unassuming and unlit stairwell leading down. Because of course, Jazz thought resignedly, they were going to have to go into the basement.

Prowl ‘spaced his rifle and moved ahead of Jazz, but that didn’t make Jazz feel better. Precisely the opposite: it meant Prowl would take the brunt of any danger. Jazz wanted his wizard safe, whole, and enjoying the rest of their vacation with him. Preferably while this whole building melted in the background.

Prowl crouched down, briefly balancing his rifle across his knees, and took out the powdered ruby again, scattering it down the stairwell. The stream of particles flowed down the stairs in a way that looked unnatural to Jazz and illuminated a series of laser-like beams that probably served as tripwires.

‘ _He’s relying too much on any intruders not being wizards,_ ’ Prowl observed. ‘ _Follow me, as we did through the maze._ ’

They reached the basement landing without incident and Jazz hacked the second lock. ‘ _No cameras on this level._ ’

‘ _He wants no part of what occurs here to be recorded._ ’

‘ _Great, that ain’t ominous. Any sense of Sigil?_ ’ Jazz was getting that feeling again, like residue hung in the air, that told him there was one hell of a lot of magic saturating the place.

Prowl shook his head, staring down the corridor ahead of him. ‘ _No, the amount of magic that permeates this level is too overwhelming. I can get no sense of anything individual._ ’

‘ _No signal-to-noise, just noise. Got it. You gonna be okay?_ ’

Prowl didn’t answer Jazz’s question, just sent back, ‘ _let’s go._ ’

This time, Prowl didn’t bother to search individual rooms. He headed straight down the hallway, looking for the place the magic was centred, Jazz guessed. Jazz wasn’t going to bug Prowl for explanations right now, though. He wasn’t going to do anything that slowed down them getting the hell out of here, preferably with Magister Sigil and without an angry warlock tailgating them.

The door Prowl had Jazz open for them led into the darkened observation balcony of an operating theatre – or what had been an operating theatre. The walls were covered with metallic panels carved with Wizard’s Alphabet glyphs that Jazz knew from learning it were in combinations that should not be used. A silver mirror, tarnished from the centre out, stood against one wall. Jazz thought some of the equipment around it looked like the same stuff that’d gotten Rewind locked in a movie. Precognition and magic twisted to its opposite purpose, then. Jazz was just as happy not to be able to see all of the room.

Apart from a single bright spotlight shining down on the centre, the room was dimly lit. Under the spotlight, a mech was restrained on a bed like the ones they’d seen in the cells upstairs. Their helm was open and their spark exposed, every detail starkly picked out under the harsh white light.

‘ _Magister Sigil._ ’ Prowl’s glyphs were marked with undertones of anger and horror. A large, purple, one-opticked mech that could only be Shockwave stood over Sigil. With one hand the warlock picked a tool up from a nearby tray and with the other pushed something in Sigil’s chest cavity aside.

Static swept across Jazz’s vision for a dizzying nano-klik as Sigil tried desperately to squirm away. The mech was _conscious_. Conscious and in _pain_.

Jazz found himself, for the first time he could remember, legitimately praying for help.

Prowl lay flat on the floor, sighted down his rifle, and fired, six times in rapid succession. Three shots went into Shockwave’s left arm, piercing the armour, making it erupt in sparks. Three peppered the warlock’s body as he jerked and stumbled backward in reaction with a feedback-filled howl of pain. Prowl fired once more, barely missing Shockwave’s optic.

‘ _Get Sigil_ ,’ Prowl ordered Jazz, even as he got to his feet to run to the edge of the balcony and jump over.

Jazz scrambled to follow, not wanting to waste Prowl’s distraction and draw Shockwave’s attention, knowing they stood a better chance if Sigil were free. _If_ Sigil were in any condition to help. Jazz had no idea: he didn’t know anything about medicine, or how to fight, or even to really be sure he’d covered his tracks in Shockwave’s systems…Slag it all, if they got out of this there was _so much_ he had to learn!

Jazz ran over to the twisted hospital bed and dropped into a crouch to keep a low profile while he shut down the system. Being unfamiliar the system in question, he ignored the usual procedures that would shut down in a specific pattern customized for each patient and went straight for the emergency power-down sequence. That should, _should_ if the systems hadn’t been fragged with too badly, close up Sigil and turn off whatever else it was doing to him.

While he worked, freaky sensations that Jazz recognized, even without his sensor data amped, as magic zinged over his sensor net, accompanied by the occasional sound of hand-to-hand. He desperately wanted to look and make sure his lover wasn’t hurt, but he had a job to do. _If_ he could get Sigil free, it would be the best way to help Prowl – _if_ Sigil was in any condition to help. Jazz could hear the injured mech panting raspily, trying to cool his systems down. It sounded bad, and Jazz liked Sigil’s chances of being able to help less every nano-klik.

The system began to shut down as rapidly as was safe. The sequence couldn’t be stopped now, so Jazz felt safe in disconnecting. He hadn’t seen any kind of controls for the restraints, and a quick check confirmed they were manual, attached separately. They were more than adequate for holding a light framed mech like Sigil in place, especially with binding glyphs carved into them. Binding glyphs wouldn’t affect Jazz unless he was the one in the restraints, but even with the glyphs damaged to break the binding, he wouldn’t be able to pry the cuffs open.

Jazz took a chance on being seen and moved to check the tools on Shockwave’s tray. The tools included a cutting torch and Jazz grabbed it, deciding to never think about why it was there. Crouching and peering up over the tray, hopefully out of the warlock’s line of sight, Jazz waited till Shockwave’s back was to him before setting the torch to one of Sigil’s wrist restraints.

Primus, he hoped that crash he’d just heard behind him wasn’t Prowl. Jazz risked a glance and saw Prowl was still on his feet, but the mirror had fallen or been pushed, to the ground. He couldn’t quite see Shockwave, giving him the horrible feeling that the warlock was _right behind him_.

But no, there was a flash of purple at the corner of his vision; Shockwave was still up and on the move. Jazz turned back to his work, not wanting to accidentally make optic contact with Prowl and distract his lover.

If Jazz’s audials hadn’t been so finely tuned to sound as they were he’d never have heard the whisper. As it was, he couldn’t make out the words and had to put his helm next to Sigil’s mouth to make anything out.

“ _…hands…_ ”

“Free your hands?” Jazz whispered back. Sigil barely nodded. “Okay, mech, gotcha. Just – just hang in there, okay?”

It seemed like it took forever to get the cuffs ‘round Sigil’s wrists open, although his chronometer said otherwise. Once both hands were free he didn’t bother to check on Sigil, just moved down to the ankle cuffs.

Shockwave had gotten lazy, or overconfident, when it came to restraining Sigil’s ankles. They were pinned by a single piece, free of glyphs. Jazz brought to the torch to bear again. The sounds of the fight got closer and more physical. Jazz worried Shockwave had clued in to his presence and what he was doing. He worried about Prowl; Shockwave was taller and bulkier than the wizard, even if he was injured. He didn’t know how long it was going to take him to cut through or how long it’d take him to get Sigil out of here, or if he’d be able to do either of those things without getting the warlock’s notice.

Then, three things happened in rapid succession.

The torch gave out.

Magister Sigil sat up.

The zingy magic sensations intensified.

The magic swiftly built to a level of intensity that overwhelmed Jazz. His optics and audials filled with static, made his armour feel like he was being blasted by shards of glass. He doubled over, too stunned to do anything to protect himself. In the background, he heard a wail that rose into a purely electronic scream, nothing or words or vocal modulation in it. It sounded like nothing that should be made by a living Cybertronian.

Jazz’s self-protection routines kicked in, dialling down his sensitivity until he could bear what he was experiencing. It made the world come in weird, but he was able to straighten up and look around.

Sigil had slumped back down, but his optics were bright. Shockwave was _gone._ Prowl had an access panel in a wall open, suggesting another escape tunnel. Prowl had taken a few hits, and one of his doors was dented, but he was standing.

‘ _Jazz! I need you. Quickly!’_

“Gonna be okay?” Jazz asked Sigil, getting to his feet. Sigil nodded faintly, and Jazz ran to Prowl, hacked the door controls. Without a word, Prowl bolted down the hallway that was revealed, and Jazz followed without a thought. Shockwave might be big, but Prowl and Jazz were fast. They just weren’t fast enough. Just as Jazz was sure, even with his dampened audials, that he could hear Shockwave running just ahead, an emergency barrier slammed up in front of them. Jazz grabbed Prowl instinctively, yanking backward, and they stumbled to a stop rather than running into the wall.

Prowl spat a curse and checked the nearest wall for an access panel. Jazz did the same on the opposite one, but no luck.

“Purely mechanical,” Jazz said, frustrated. “Must’ve had a lever or switch or something. Nothing to hack. _Dammit!_ ”

Prowl slammed his free hand on the barrier that now stood between him and Shockwave, furious. Jazz, who hadn’t thought Prowl had the kind of temper you could _lose_ , was shocked into silence. Prowl’s hand curled into a fist, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehelm against it, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Shockwave won’t let me get this close, not again,” Prowl said bitterly, “and he’ll be well away from Crystal City by the time we’re able to exit the facility.”

Jazz put a comforting hand on his lover’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Prowl. Sigil’s alive, though, so at least we managed that, right?”

Prowl straightened up to look at his lover, laid his hand over Jazz’s. “Yes, we did – and saving a life is no small thing.”

“Got any idea what was going on back there?” Jazz asked. “I mean, my systems were _buzzing_ with the magic in there, mech. It had to have been pretty serious.”

“It was. Shockwave was attempting to – succeeding in, I believe, transferring magical ability from Magister Sigil to himself. Attempting to increase his own innate ability,” Prowl explained. “I believe the same experiment killed the other wizards whose deactivations I sensed here.”

Jazz frowned. “But something went wrong this time, didn’t it? I heard Shockwave scream.”

“I’ll need to confirm with the magister, but I’m fairly certain Sigil reversed the spell.” Prowl continued thoughtfully, “because he’s stronger than Shockwave, more skilled, more experienced, he tore Shockwave’s capacity for magic from him, in its entirety.” Prowl looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I admit to feeling some of the draw of it myself. Did you – are you alright?”

“Got overwhelmed for a bit – too much sensory input – and sensory systems are running below spec cause they had to compensate,” Jazz replied. “But I’m okay. Just fritzed for a few nano-kliks, I guess, while Sigil did his thing. Self-preservation routines’ll power down and turn everything back to normal soon. What about you?” Now that the emergency was over, Jazz was able to take a minute and look Prowl over. “Those dents, that door – those’ve gotta hurt.”

Prowl grimaced. “Yes, and I will need medical attention to repair some of the damage. It isn’t urgent.”

Jazz frowned. “Don’t like seeing you hurt, Prowler.”

“It was worth the damage.” Prowl glanced at the barricade. “Capturing Shockwave would have been preferable but as it is – I’m just relieved you’re unharmed dearest.”

“At least Shockwave can’t use magic anymore, right?” Jazz tried, seeing Prowl was still distressed. “That’s gotta count for something.”

“Thank you, Jazz.” Prowl patted his hand, a touch absently. “It is true Shockwave can no longer work magic, but I worry what he’ll still be able to do with science. A monster doesn’t stop being a monster simply because its teeth are blunted.”

“True, but that’s a problem for another time, love.” Jazz moved his hand to wrap an arm around Prowl’s shoulders. “We can’t do anything about it right now.

“Yes, true.” Prowl took a reluctant step back. “And we mustn’t delay. Sigil will also require medical attention, and the deaths that occurred here will have to be reported to civilian authorities.”

Jazz was surprised. “What, you deal with Enforcers?”

Prowl began to walk back; Jazz followed. “They may have little cause to use them these days, but Enforcers have protocols in place to deal with the aftermath of magical crimes. It helps that Sigil, who is quite well respected, will be able to speak for us. I expect he’ll be instrumental in ensuring the facility is scoured and cleansed.”

“Really hope by ‘scoured and cleansed’ you mean ‘disassembled and smelted.’”

“I believe that would be preferable, although that will be up to civilian authorities.” Prowl’s tone added an ‘unfortunately’ to the end of that sentence. “They may prefer to simply clean and repurpose it.”

“Might wanna set foot in here before they decide that,” Jazz muttered.

“Yes.”

***

Prowl’s theory about Shockwave’s magic was confirmed by Sigil, who was alive and seemed stable even if he was injured. Emergency services were called, and within the cycle Jazz, Prowl, and Sigil were on their way to the city’s Primary Wellness Centre. Jazz guessed that was rich-mecha speak for the city’s central hospital. He wondered if they’d be habitués of the hospital or just regular patients.

A glimpse at the intake form told him they were called ‘convalescents.’ Okay then.

The three of them were separated, which Jazz did not like. Because he wasn’t injured, he got the fun of talking to the Enforcers first while Prowl and Sigil were treated. He really wanted to speak with Prowl, but their comms were blocked. Jazz could tell the Enforcers weren’t happy that he’d hacked their way into Shockwave’s lab but there wasn’t any other way to explain how they got in. They didn’t try to arrest him though – maybe because Shockwave wasn’t around to press charges, perhaps because he’d been with Prowl. Jazz got asked at least six times if he was there with Prowl and why, and nearly as often how he’d met Magister Sigil. What he’d seen of the fight between Prowl and Shockwave. Never mind that he’d been head down trying to free Sigil for most of it, apparently. He got it – if he were lying, asking him the same questions over and over would trip him up – but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He wanted to just leave, which he technically could since wasn’t under arrest, but they _did_ have grounds to arrest him what with the hacking, so he gritted his teeth and repeated himself.

Finally, they claimed to have enough and left him alone. Jazz sighed and slumped in his chair. He was tired, hungry, and wanted to know how Prowl was. He wanted the reassurance of his quiet lover’s presence. He gave it nearly a quarter-cycle after the Enforcers left before taking the initiative and going to search for Prowl.

The Enforcers had separated them but kept them contained in the same area. Prowl’s injuries weren’t anything that required surgery so, like Jazz, he was in what was labelled as a Minor Procedure Room. Guarded, but still pretty accessible. Sigil’s injuries had been more severe, not surprising as he’d had Shockwave digging around his internals, so he’d been taken to Major Trauma.

There were Enforcers outside Prowl’s room, probably waiting to speak to him. So that was going to be a while if Jazz’s experience was anything to go by. There was a little four-seat waiting area up the hall, but there wasn’t much point in just sitting and waiting. Sitting and waiting off a hallway wasn’t much better than sitting and waiting in his room. Jazz stopped a passing orderly – they didn’t get fancy names – and asked where the nearest kiosk or cafeteria was. The orderly checked the hospital bracelet that’d been fixed around Jazz’s wrist before answering, then directed him to a café one floor down. So that killed a few kliks, and he was able to pick something up for Prowl as well. Still, it didn’t take up as much time as Jazz would have liked and by the time he was back up in the little area he wished he’d thought to ‘space a book or something before they’d gone out. Prowl would probably have something, but the Enforcers were in with him now, and Jazz had no way to ask. He had to settle for the magazines, encoded on flimsy one-use datapads, that were in the waiting area.

Finally, and in less time than they’d taken with Jazz which seemed unfair, the Enforcers left Prowl’s room and presumably went to hover at Sigil’s. Jazz tossed the magazine he’d been reading down on the seat next to him and went straight to his lover.

“Ah, my love,” Prowl said in obvious relief as soon as Jazz walked into the room. “Are you well?”

“I’m not hurt,” Jazz assured him, taking Prowl’s outstretched hand and kissing it as he closed the distance. “How’re you doing?”

One of Prowl’s doors was bandaged, so the damage must’ve been worse than it just being bent and one of the armour panels on his arm was patched. He needed a tube of filler and a polish at the least. Once Jazz had the space to stop and think about things he’d started worrying about internal damage. What if Prowl was hurt worse than it looked like?

“Minor damage,” Prowl assured him. “Shockwave is large and strong, but he was damaged and unused to fighting. I’m waiting now to find out if I must stay here overnight for observation. I expect to hear soon.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Jazz promised, and Prowl smiled warmly at him.

Jazz sat down next to Prowl and pulled his lover in against him with an arm around Prowl’s shoulders. They leaned tiredly into each other, pressed close on the narrow hospital bed.

“Wanna waste a day of vacation sleeping?” Jazz asked, letting his optics dim to half power. “’Cause that sounds really good right now.”

“It does,” Prowl agreed. “Tonight has been exhausting.”

“Primus, can’t believe it’s only one night.” Jazz put his head down on Prowl’s shoulder. “Feels like I just lay down to have you put the glyphs on me.”

“Yes.” Prowl picked up Jazz’s hand and examined his work. “Once we’ve returned to the apartment, would you like to have the etchings filled in?”

Jazz glanced at his arm, the bottom edge of the vambrace circled with glyphs from the Wizard’s Alphabet. “Think I’ll keep ‘em. Save you having to do them over again later.”

Prowl sighed and leaned his cheek against Jazz’s helm, sounding tired. “Primus forbid we should have another day like this. I’m still pleased you’re keeping them: I will feel better knowing you’re protected when you’re not with me.”

Jazz snuggled in closer and let his optics shut down. “Honestly, lover, me too.”

The nurse who came to tell them Prowl was being released had to wake them up to do it.

***

The rest of their vacation was much more relaxing – though winding up in the hospital after fighting a warlock was admittedly a pretty hard thing to top in terms of stress. Prowl went back to the magic shop to talk to Quickshadow, even though apprentices were legally considered kin and she would have been notified Sigil was in the hospital. Prowl wanted to make sure that she understood what had happened from the perspective of a fellow magic-user, for which she was grateful.

They also visited Sigil in the hospital, once he was out of surgery and aware. Just as Prowl initially had, Sigil mistook Jazz for an apprentice – Prowl’s in this case.

“Jazz is my lover, not my apprentice,” Prowl said mildly. The words were softly spoken, matter-of-fact, but they still gave Jazz a warm, fluttery feeling in his spark. “A musician.”

Sigil didn’t seem confused by the music-magic connection, just nodding at Prowl’s words and thanking he and Jazz again. Sigil was still weakened from his ordeal, and they did not stay long so that he could rest again.

One thing Sigil was able to tell them was that Shockwave’s experiments, the ones he had seen and been part of, were not responsible for the decline in magic on Cybertron. That left the idea that it was connected to a problem with the Core. Jazz had no idea how that would be fixed, or even if it _could_. One thing for sure, it wasn’t a problem for a lone wizard and his loving musician. That was Council, maybe even Prime-level business.

The rest of their vacation was a proper holiday. Among other things, Jazz got to go back to the entertainment district, which was still amazing even if he couldn’t afford to buy anything. They found an entire museum dedicated to the history of instruments on Cybertron, losing a good portion of a mega-cycle to it. Prowl brought them to a couple of shops Quickshadow had told them about, filled with kind of random but pretty cool things, eclectic in a way that reminded Jazz of Prowl’s workshop. Jazz found out about a racetrack whose surface was nearly as good as the driving paths in the parks _and_ had a quarter mega-cycle where the fee was reduced for the general public and got to indulge. _Completely_ worth it. A few of the Towers had sections open for tours, varying from tastefully expensive to proving money couldn’t buy taste. Like, at _all_.

“It’s gorgeous,” Jazz said, looking around one of the former, “yeah, but it’s too – I feel like I shouldn’t touch any of it. Living here’d be weird.”

“Would you prefer mismatched chairs in a corner?” Prowl asked, gently teasing. “A table piled with energon cubes that should be in the kitchen?”

“Oh yeah. Ex-cursed mirror in the landing, crystals hanging in the window in the music room…” Jazz was starting to miss Prowl’s house. His association with ‘home’ was switching from even the house he’d shared with Half-step to the one he often stayed over at but didn’t live in. But this was Prowl, and Jazz knew he’d be in his dorm room for a while yet.

“We’ll be back soon,” Prowl promised.

***

The train that would take them home to Altihex left in the evening at an odd, but inexpensive, hour. Jazz took a rear-facing seat and leaned against the window to watch Crystal City recede in the distance. Prowl sat across from him engrossed in a book the wizard had purchased in one of the eclectic shops, occasionally looking up to smile fondly at him. He also defeated Jazz soundly in three games of chess, and by a slender margin in a fourth, of which Jazz was extremely proud. Jazz still would’ve preferred to travel on his wheels, but he had to admit the train wasn’t bad.

It was late when they got to Altihex, later still when they got back to Prowl’s house, but not so much so it would have been unreasonable for Jazz to go back to his dorm.

“Will you spend the night?” Prowl asked, putting his arms around Jazz as the door slid closed. The wizard was warm, especially compared to the cold air of the house, whose heating system had been off while they were away.

“Course I will.” Jazz heard the house’s systems boot up from their quasi-dormant state as they registered the owner’s presence. “Any night you want, babe, just have to ask.”

Prowl stroked Jazz’s back, one of those little habitual touches he made as if for no other reason than to feel Jazz under his fingers. “Then, will you spend all of them?”

Jazz’s optics flickered in surprise.  “Love – Prowl, you’re asking me to move in with you?” Prowl, who he’d known for less than a stellar-cycle? _Prowl_ , who’d wanted to take it _slow_? Jazz wasn’t objecting – hardly! – he just hadn’t expected to hear it so soon.

“It’s soon, yes,” Prowl admitted, “and I’m sure our experience in Shockwave’s lab is influencing my timing.” He locked his arms around Jazz’s waist. “However, I know when something is right. I see no further reason to delay. I don’t _want_ to delay.” Jazz grabbed for his abruptly scattered thoughts; Prowl searched his face, shyly adding, “do you?”

Jazz got his wits about him. “No, love, I don’t.” He framed Prowl’s face in his hands, bringing their heads together, forehelms touching. “Yes, I’ll move in with you. Course I will, Prowl.”

“Ah,” the wizard sighed, happy and relieved. As if he’d thought Jazz might really _refuse_. “Jazz. My beloved.”

“Yeah,” Jazz said lovingly, tucking Prowl close in a tight embrace. “Always.”


End file.
